Happy Halloween
by ThePet
Summary: A very short, fluffy story for Halloween. Minerva is disappointed when Snape decides he prefers work to spending an evening with her.


A/N just a quick ficlet dedicated to all the faithful readers and reviewers of my Snape/McGonagall series ;-) Happy Halloween!  
  
"What are you doing this evening?" Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall casually put the question to her colleague, Severus Snape, as they sat at High Table in the Great Hall, eating pumpkin pie. At least, McGonagall was eating hers; Snape was poking at his, irritably, with a spoon.  
"What I usually do." He retorted, giving up on the pie. "Engage in some productive work-related activity. Usually," he went on, warming to his theme, "I conduct experiments with timebound potions. Because those potions only work on Halloween, my time for research is minimal. I intend to make the most of it this evening."  
"Oh." McGonagall seemed oddly disappointed. She put her fork down with a sigh. "I see. So...what potions are you investigating?"  
"I would prefer to keep my research private, thank you."  
McGonagall, offended, was about to snap a retort when Dumbledore rose to announce that the feast was coming to an end. He thanked everyone for their company, indulged in a speech that encompassed his usual unique mix of sagacity and oddness, and ushered the tired but happy pupils out of the hall. Snape rose with alacrity and followed. McGonagall, with another small sigh, unheeded by her colleagues, folded her napkin neatly and left the hall in silence. In her rooms was a bottle of red wine, an old and fairly rare vintage, Snape's favourite, in fact - difficult to get, but she had hoped it would be worth the effort. Seemingly she had been mistaken. Well, the wine would keep. Halloween or not, McGonagall decided that the best thing she could do would be to have an early night with a good book.   
Despite the warm glow of the fire, and the attractions inherent in a good long read, Minerva found herself oddly restless, alone in her rooms. Normally she appreciated rare periods of complete solitude in the absence of work. Tonight, however, she was - lonely. The conclusion was inescapable. Lonely; and bored. She paced the length of the hearthrug and back again; she picked up her book and read a few pages, but was unable to engage with the text. She glanced at the neglected bottle of wine on the sideboard, considered trying a glass, then decided than drinking alone would merely add insult to injury.  
Finally, giving in to her unusually fidgety impulses, Minerva pulled on a cloak and went for a wander through the castle, heading (she told herself) in no particular direction, turning corners at random. She encountered ghosts indulging in a raucous party; Mrs. Norris prowling the corridors, apparently having left Filch behind somewhere; what sounded suspiciously like pupils giggling, but then, she saw no one, and was too distracted to be very concerned; eventually, quite by chance (of course) her meanderings took her to the dungeons.  
Casually, she made her way down the steps. Casually, she hovered for a moment outside Snape's office. No sound came from within. She knocked lightly upon the door, telling herself that it was for his benefit - no one should work on Halloween! There was no answer. Was there any possibility that he had changed his mind, and was at that moment heading for her rooms? Minerva was debating whether or not to return and check when a soft, muffled sound reached her sharp ears. Frowning, she pushed the office door open, walked through, and touched the panel that opened the secret door leading to Snape's private laboratory.  
He was there, hunched over a cauldron, carefully adding some ingredient to the bubbling liquid. He glanced up sharply as she entered. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as the Arctic.  
"Minerva. Was there something you wanted?"  
"I...just wondered how you were getting on." She told him, awkwardly. She felt a little foolish. Of course Snape hadn't changed his mind. Why would he contemplate spending an evening with her, when he could be working on his research?  
"This potion requires precision and perfect timing." Came the icy reply. "I *was* getting along well..."  
"I'm sorry." She tried not to sound disappointed or irritated by his rudeness. She had interrupted him, after all. "I'll leave you to your work."  
He merely grunted. She turned on her heel and left him, returning directly to her rooms, where she grabbed the wine and threw it into a cupboard before settling down to read by the fire.  
  
It was almost midnight when a knock on the door startled Minerva out of a light doze. She got up, blinking sleepily, wondering who might be calling at such an hour, on Halloween...although of course it was only *just* Halloween, it being almost the morning of the first day of November.  
Expecting, truth be told, some student prank, she was astonished to find Severus Snape standing outside.  
"Severus? Is something wrong?"  
He shook his head. The man seemed oddly embarrassed. Perhaps he was regretting his earlier rudeness.  
"I came to tell you," he said, softly, "that I've finished working on the potion."  
"Oh - good for you. Is that all?" She couldn't help but feel annoyed - he disturbed her just to boast about his research, after snubbing her earlier in the evening!  
"Am I disturbing you...?" He wondered, hovering. She sighed.  
"No, Severus. Please come in. Tell me all about your potion, why don't you."  
He entered the room. Sat in the armchair indicated. Minerva noticed for the first time that he was carrying something under his arm - something bottle-shaped, wrapped in green paper.  
"I'm glad you asked that," he remarked, "but instead of telling you, you might find it more interesting if I showed you the results of my painstaking research." He unwrapped the bottle. It contained brownish liquid. McGonagall stared at it, unimpressed.  
"Well?" She said.  
"This potion," Snape informed her, "can only be brewed on Halloween. My previous supplies ran out some time ago - this is the first time I've been able to make any for months."  
"How nice." She yawned.  
"I thought," he went on, ignoring her, "that you might like to try some."  
McGonagall blinked.  
"I have better things to do than act as your guinea pig, Severus."  
"Please yourself!" He snapped, coldly - but with an undercurrent of hurt which surprised her. She sighed yet again.  
"Very well - I'll try your concoction, but if something peculiar happens..."  
He was already hunting in her sideboard for a glass. "Trust me."  
Uncorking the bottle - which resulted in a pungent odour - he poured a small trickle of the stuff into the glass. McGonagall picked it up, sniffed it carefully - it reminded her curiously of something, but what? - and drank...  
"Severus!" She exclaimed, once she had stopped gasping and choking, a moment later. "This is...whisky!"  
He simply nodded, fetched another glass, and poured himself a large measure, topping up McGonagall's glass also.  
"You said you were working on some special potion which could only be brewed on Halloween!" She reminded, accusingly, but with a sparkle in her eyes that had been conspicuous by its absence all evening. He smirked.  
"Quite true. Haven't you ever wondered why I don't distribute this stuff? It's immensely difficult to make. If I could-mass produce it, I could give up my job and live in that underground concreted labyrinth of my dreams, but it's very volatile. If brewed on any night other than Halloween, it tastes foul and has no effect; if brewed in too large an amount, the effects are immensely diluted. In short, I can produce only one effective bottle a year. Usually," he added, "I keep it for myself."  
McGonagall was absurdly touched by this strange gift. However, she also felt that he had given her a far greater gift than whisky this evening - himself. Odd how she had come to appreciate his eccentric, irascible company; to prefer it to that of kinder, more polite, friendlier colleagues. Odd how he seemed to reciprocate, despite being an immensely asocial creature the majority of the time. Odd how the world just seemed to become a little more interesting when he was with her.  
Of course, Minerva could not express these thoughts to Snape - he would have fled the room and locked himself in his dungeon for the next three weeks - so she settled for the simplest, and perhaps the best, reply to make.  
"Thank you, Severus."  
He offered her a rare, genuine smile, as her grandfather clock chimed midnight.  
"Happy Halloween, Minerva." 


End file.
